


Kiss Every Bruise Away

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Phil undresses Clint, Porn, Protective Phil Coulson, even though Clint's not hurt, kinda hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission, Clint comes home to Phil, who undresses him slowly, making sure every inch of him is unharmed. (and then they have sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Every Bruise Away

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Dunicha.

"Get on the bed," Phil says, taking Clint's bow and quiver from his hands and tossing his head in the direction of said furniture, and Clint grins lopsidedly as he saunters over, sitting down on the edge of the bed to bend down and undo his boots.

"Nope," Phil says, having placed Clint's stuff on the dressing table. Clint lets go of the laces in his hands and moves where Phil pushes him, down onto his back with Phil straddling him. "That's my job."

 

Clint tips his head for a kiss, but Phil leans away and runs his fingers through dusty hair and down to wipe a smudge off of Clint's cheek. Then he just looks at him, checking over Clint's face for any sign of distress or injury. There is none, cause save for a few explosions that've made Clint's ears ring a little, he's fine. Not even a scratch. Clint's sworn to go to medical whenever there's blood drawn but Phil still needs to look and see with his own eyes. 

 

Satisfied, he moves down, taking Clint's zipper with him and then peeling the vest open. He runs his hands swiftly across the damp tshirt that lies beneath it, feeling for hidden injuries and finding none. Clint studies his face as he does it, and when Phil shifts again, he moves his arms to get the shirt and the vest off, moving up the bed as he goes. Phil's hungry like this, and Clint loves to watch him deny himself what he can so readily have, making himself check Clint over thoroughly before he even lets himself have a kiss. So disciplined, Clint thinks fondly, and sometimes he goes out of his way to tease him, try to break that iron resolve, but not today. Today he just regards Phil with the wonder he's only now afforded to be so open about, amazed that anyone could look this intently in his direction when he’s not purposely putting on a show. 

 

Phil kneels to one side of Clint's feet and takes off each boot swiftly followed by each sock, giving each a cursory check before kneading them just enough to have Clint wanting more. Next go the pants, opened without ceremony and pulled down with Clint's help, tossed to the floor before Phil looks each leg over in turn. There's a bruise on one of Clint's knees that’s old, though it still gets a kiss and a lingering look of something Clint can't define. He doesn't want to define it.

 

Clint's hard in the purple underwear he's still in, but his erection goes untended, for next are the arm guards Phil leaves on next-to-last, since there's something about them that Phil approves of. Each neat patch of skin between the straps gets a kiss before they're undone, small buckles Phil's nimble fingers make quick work of. He rubs afterwards where pink lines temporarily mark Clint's skin and then checks over one arm before moving to the other. 

 

Clint slides his hand down Phil's chest and Phil tuts, cause he's not done, but doesn't push it away. "Turn over," he says, and then he checks Clint's back and his ass and his legs again. There's a mostly healed scar on Clint's shoulder and that gets a kiss, but it’s almost over cause he can feel Phil's hardness pushing against his side as he goes about his work. 

"Are you done?" Clint asks, turning halfway over. In answer, Phil's lips find his, and his touch is much less gentle as he straddles him again. Clint grins when Phil pulls off and looks at him.

"Hi," Clint says, which makes Phil grin down at him.

"Hi," he says back.

 

"Can I take a shower?" Clint asks, and Phil thinks about it for a second before shaking his head. "Nope. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Clint pulls at the soft gym pants Phil's wearing and frees his cock, idly rubbing the back of his knuckles over it like a pet. "I didn't say you couldn't come."

 

They've bathed each other before now, plenty of times after week long missions with not enough shut eye, or with broken limbs and bandages that can't be gotten wet, but this isn't one of those times. Phil pulls his own clothes off before Clint can get to them, and he mourns that slow reveal when Phil undoes each tiny button before getting to this, the man beneath all those layers of propriety. They push and pull one another to the shower and Phil gets in Clint's way as he tries to do his standard three minute routine. He doesn't mind though, cause Phil disrupting anything is adorably incongruent with how he is the rest of the time with everyone else, always Mr Straightforward. It's nice, the wet slide of skin on skin, the warmth of the water washing away a long day's worth of saving the world grime, which is a very particular kind of grime that takes a few tries to get rid of. 

 

Eventually, Phil shuts off the water and gets in the way some more as Clint tries to dry off, pulling him back towards the bedroom where there's already two huge towels spread over the bed. "How do you do these things?" Clint wonders aloud, but Phil smirks and kisses him. "Fuckin' ninja," Clint grumbles, though it's not like he minds. 

 

This time he pushes Phil down first and straddles him, both their mostly-ignored erections back and eager and damply rubbing against each other. "What do you want?" Phil asks indulgently, and Clint knows he'd give him anything he asks for.

"What do _you_ want?" Clint counters, because he mostly wants Phil, any way he can get him. 

 

"You know what I want," Phil replies, and they both laugh because it's so true. Clint had no idea how much Phil wanted what he wants for so long, and it just seems cruel to deny him now. Clint reaches to the bedstand where Phil's already laid out lube, arranged like a goddamn hotel or something. He starts reaching behind him and Phil whines. "Let me?" he says plaintively as though Clint's denying him something. 

 

They arrange themselves so Clint's on his front and Phil can rest his cheek on Clint's ass while he gets fingers into him, taking long enough that Clint's about to complain when he finally moves again. He prods Clint over onto his back and it's a smooth glide for him to get inside him, no ache or sting, just easy and slick, and it feels like they have all the time in the world.  Phil chokes off a moan and his head droops for a moment, something Clint's pretty sure no one else has ever seen, at least not as often as he has. He lives for the sight of Phil's face when he makes that sound. That and the face he makes when he comes, but Clint's usually not able to pay as much attention then. Phil catches him looking and rolls his eyes, embarrassed. Clint feels like he could die with how stupidly cute it is, but then Phil starts moving at the same time as he starts kissing Clint's neck and he wonders if maybe he already did die, cause it feels far too good to be real. 

 

"You're gonna leave a mark," Clint complains. Phil murmurs 'hmm hmm' against his skin and keeps going, and Clint doesn't really care about marks, he likes them, he likes how teenagery it seems and the way people tease him when they see them, cause they're proof of this right now. 

 

Clint wraps his arms around Phil and holds on, so tight Phil can only make little movements in and out, but it's what he wants, and Phil doesn't mind. they shift and Clint gets his mouth on Phil's neck instead, making his own marks til Phil shifts back so he can fuck him a little harder. Clint wraps his hand around his cock and holds on more than anything else, Phil's movements in and out of him jerking his body so that it does enough, just as much as he wants. He doesn't want to come til Phil's done, and he doesn't want Phil to be done ever, but it's not long before Phil's movements start to stutter, and Clint touches his neck with his free hand, moves it down Phil’s chest to thumb over a nipple just to make him whimper and stop, jerking back and forth a half-dozen times as he comes hard, slumping forward in increments as he does it. 

 

Phil stays where he is while Clint finishes himself off, swallowing his moans with a hard kiss that ends with them both panting into each other's mouths and grinning. 

"Gonna have to take another shower," Clint says, and Phil slips out of him, laughing before collapsing on the bed next to him. Cleaning up can wait, Clint thinks. There are towels, the shower's not far, it'll take five minutes, but later, later when he's not edging around sleep with the man of his dreams in his arms. 

 

 

 


End file.
